


A Million Voices - Scraps

by Ahab2631



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-05-03 06:02:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14562462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahab2631/pseuds/Ahab2631
Summary: Scraps from my Dragon Age: Inquisition fics. Right now it's just scenes I've ended up cutting.Rated Mature just in case.





	1. A Million Voices (AMV) - Fenris & Hawke discuss Nua

**Author's Note:**

> From A Million Voices; Hawke and Fenris, the night they met Nua.

“She isn’t what I expected,” Fenris says resentfully. “And I _feel_ like I should trust her.” He sounds exasperated.

“I know what you mean.” Hawke speaks lightly as she finishes rubbing the worst of the road from her skin with the cloth and basin the sister was kind enough to provide. The room they were given would be called modest by most standards, but the bed isn’t hard ground, they have four walls and the space is presumably free of parasites. It's a luxury accommodation, as far as she's concerned.

“It makes me trust her less,” Fenris replies flatly. He is sitting on the bed in his trousers.

Hawke laughs and gives the cloth one last ring before laying it over the side of the basin. It reminds her of one her mother picked out and had put in a guest bath in Kirkwall.

“She’s certainly not full of herself,” she says. “And thank the Maker for that. The last thing Thedas needed was another megalomaniac with too much authority. The so-called Prophet doesn’t like being so called.” That, more than anything else, hemmed in her willingness to stay the night. Because the woman hid her distaste, too.

Fenris grumbles dubiously, but she ignores it. He’ll get there, and she hardly blames him for taking his time at it. He has worse scars than most, and he has earned his reticence. 

“Well?” he prompts. He’s so tired. Not physically, not as much as he has been, but in his bones. This thing has been his worst nightmare come to life. Controlled by strange magic. Controlled, period.

She gives a thoughtful little shake of her head and joins him on the mattress. He rests a hand on her knee, and she leans her shoulder into him. “I don’t know yet. She said she’s a direct link to the Fade, and the way I feel around her, I absolutely believe that. But I don’t buy that there’s nothing else to it. You noticed, right? She’s just... different. She _feels_ different, and I’m not even certain how.”

He grunts assent. “It makes me trust her less. Which is frustrating, because it also makes me want to trust her _more.”_

”She’s not like anything we’ve ever heard of, ” she says, “and if this is some sort of con, it’s the most impressive one I’ve ever heard of. Maybe she is the Maker’s Prophet or Daughter, or Andraste’s gilded handmaiden.” She pauses, and when she goes on, she doesn’t sound entirely happy. In fact, her tone is almost dark. “But I’ll eat my hat if she’s a fraud.”

“Or a spy?”

She snorts. “No one is that good.”

“Perhaps she’s simply a new kind of horror.”

“Ah, my darling, dearest love,” she says wistfully, “your optimism is all that keeps me going sometimes.”

He bites her shoulder. She cries out, then laughs, and he places slow kisses over the spot. Her body responds to him as instantly as it had that first time.

“She doesn’t seem like she’s trying to sell the holy angle that no one will shut up about, at least,” she says, setting aside the heat uncoiling in her belly.

“They’re not bending over to deny it.”

She makes a considering sound. Fenris puts an arm around her and rests his head against her shoulder. 

“I don’t know if I blame them for that,” she says. “Not with what they’re trying to do or the condition the rest of the world is in. Someone was going to have to do something dramatic sooner rather than later. It could lead to a hell of a problem later, but frankly, right now I don’t care if she’s Gamlen in a dress. These people might have a real shot at fixing whatever’s wrong, and if it really is Corypheus... Fenris, we….” She hesitates, clearly bracing herself. Clearly going back to their long descent into the prison. _”I_ let him out. Carver and me. And if it really is him, that means I’m at least partially responsible for what’s happening here. After Kirkwall--”

“After _Anders._ I should have ended him the moment we met,” he says darkly. He will never forgive the other man, Hawke thinks, and not only for what he unleashed on the world. He knows how close she came to feeling something for him in the years after she had come home to find Fenris waiting for her. More than that, she thinks Fenris doesn’t forgive himself.

“But you didn’t,” she says gently. “Because of me.”

He closes his eyes and gives a beleaguered sigh, sitting up again, but keeping his hand on her.

“I thought we were past this, Hawke.”

“I’m not talking about fault. I’m saying that if we keep finding ourselves in the middle of these things, maybe there’s a reason. Besides,” she adds, leaning on the decades-worn wry tone, “if Varric’s hung around, they can’t be all that bad.”

“He was hauled off by the Seeker and her people after questioning. For all we know, he’s a prisoner.”

She laughs, and relishes the way it loosens the tension in him, even by only a fraction of a fraction. “Do you honestly think they could have held him this long? I mean, really, Fenris. Varric?”

“You overestimate him.”

“And you’re adorable when you get jealous.”

“Jealous?” He scoffs. “Unless you’re made of wood and metal and can fire projectiles at great speeds, I have nothing to worry about.”

“Are you implying I couldn’t seduce Varric? I could seduce Varric.”

_“Hawke.”_

“‘Of course you could seduce Varric, love of my life, perfect specimen of feminine charm and beauty, and I thank the Maker every day that you never wanted to,’” she says in a painfully shoddy imitation of his bass. “Look, I think I want to do this. At least long enough to see who they are and what they’re about and, Maker help me, I’m curious about her. Which frankly makes me want to run the other way, but since when do I listen to the good voices?” She flops back on the bed. “If you don’t, if you really don’t, we’ll leave. Turn right around and see if she’s right about the dreams just getting you here the once. You know Varric will understand.”

His eyes dip to the floor and he considers. He wants to leave, she knows he does. He wants to take her and pretend they’ve never heard of Haven or a woman being proclaimed as the Maker’s own. But.

“She knew your name, Fenris,” she says quietly. “You’ve never told anyone.”

“That I remember. If she’s from Tevinter, or a spy, she could have found out.”

She makes a considering noise. “That’s true. But a long shot, you have to admit. An elven Tevinter spy who just happens to be the one person who can save us from the world-eating hole in the clouds. And who claims a Magister did it.”

“A perfect story to allow her into a position of power from which to manipulation the other side.”

“That seems overly complicated. And that’s _me_ saying that. The Inquisition was nothing before she showed up. Why would Tevinter give it a second thought, never mind bothering to target it? The slavers have been having a holiday since the rebellions started, and Tevinter proper has been delighted, haven’t they?”

He grunts. “Supposedly. But times are dire, and people will cling to any hope.”

“And for all we know, she planted the idea that she was holy. Maybe they caused the disaster, too, gave her the solution, and have her blaming one of the original magisters because officially, the current rulers condemn everything they did.”

Fenris looks at her flatly.

She is the picture of innocence. “That wasn’t my sarcastic voice! It does make a certain amount sense, but it seems awfully roundabout. And it doesn’t feel right, does it? From a distance, maybe,” she allows, though her tone is dubious, “but now that we’ve met her… Fenris come on. Is she like anyone you’ve ever met? Never mind an elf. I mean, her magic alone-- She stopped your hand! _Nothing_ stops your hand! 

“As flimsy as I know this is, she doesn’t _feel_ evil. She feels like exactly who she says she is. A girl,” Fenris snorts at the word, “thrown into the middle of this mess and expected, for no good reason other than the misfortune of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, to clean it all up.”

“She isn't you, Quinn.”

“No, she doesn’t have a family to sacrifice. For all she knows, everyone she cares about is already dead.” There isn’t quite enough dry wine in her voice for it to be believable as a joke, and it’s just a little too hot.

“...I’m sorry,” she says after a moment.

He shakes his head and turns to lay over her, propped on one arm. His free hand brushes at her hair. “I didn’t take it that way. And I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s your decision, Fenris.” She says softly. “I’m not the one who was forced here.”

He snorts. “No, quite the opposite.”

“I can’t let you have all the fun. And you pick the most exciting vacations.”

His face darkens. “If we do decide to try, and it turns out I can’t leave, I still want you to go.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I mean it,” he says sharply.

“Yes, and that’s why I rolled my eyes. You're ridiculous.”

“Tell me you wouldn’t do the same if the situation were reversed. Tell me you wouldn’t flat out take my choice away if you thought it would keep me safe.”

She sobers. “Fair point,” she has to allow, if begrudgingly.

It’s quiet for a long time, then. Hawke reaches for his hand to close the silence. He twines their fingers together slowly, relishing the feel of skin-on-skin. It still hurts him, she knows, but not anything like it used to. That’s the thing about Fenris. Every day they’re together, he shows her, even after the better part of a decade together, what she means to him. That he chooses her, that if she made _him_ wait three years, he would.

“We could go with her to meet Varric,” she suggests. “See what he has to say, then decide from there.”

“If it isn’t a trap set for all of them, you mean.”

She looks up at him, uncharacteristically serious. “Fen. We were surrounded by an army today, her army for all intents and purposes, and she nullified your magic and held you there like it was nothing. If there was a time for a trap, that was it.”

“I surprised her.”

“And shocked the sense out of her, and she still overpowered you like you were a starved kitten.”

His anger flashes, but it isn’t anger, not really. It’s fear.

“You can’t be the biggest boy on _every_ playground,” she jokes kindly. “But if she could do that to your hand, what do you think she could do to a mage? Even one as good as me?”

He grits his teeth around a sigh, and rests his forehead against the skin below her collar bone, “If you are hurt because of her--” He threatens.

“I know, love. I know. And you know I would burn the world if they touched you.”

“...You’d better,” he half-growls, bringing his mouth up and closing the scant distance between them.


	2. The Mountain Below (TMB) - Inner Circle debrief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene from the first version of the story (before I had the world state sorted and such) where the inner circle discusses Ashkaari and what the actual hell. **If you didn't read it when it was in the fic, it will contain minor to moderate spoilers.** Probably just minor, but I take spoilers pretty srsly so... conservative estimate.
> 
> Should be considered _strictly_ rough draft/a look into my writing process (full disclosure: some places have had a handful of editing passes); it's disjointed in the extreme, still contains snippets of the original version (when most of the inner circle had yet to join) people are ooc in places, thoughts are under-developed.... You get the idea. 
> 
> Ultimately decided it didn't add anything to the story, but there was so much of it I couldn't just chuck it. Pieces of it may or may not end up in the fic proper.

The first thing Hawke does is look at Iron Bull. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I need you to know that if you’re lying, I’ll see it, ben-hassrath or not.”

The two men look at one another a moment, and abruptly, Bull’s assessment of the man seems to change. He gives a dip of his chin. “Alright.”

“Are you with us, or are you with them?” Hawke asks. “I know you’re Qunari, and I know you’re playing a part. I also know that you are _really_ into that part.”

Bull thinks a moment, then sighs. “The Arishok stopped me on my way in here tonight. Know what he told me? ‘Your orders remain unchanged.’ 

“Now… I’m Qunari. That hasn’t changed. But my orders were to be one of you, and you want to play a part right as a spy, you have to live it, I mean really live it. I was never supposed to pass on every detail, since that’s what you’re getting at.”

“And when your orders change?”

“My orders change. Like I said, I’m Qunari. If you’re not comfortable with me being here, all you have to do is tell me to step out. This is your show, and honestly, that’s what I would do in your place.”

The two have something of a standoff, but it’s upside down, each pushing the wrong side of a test.

“...You’ll stay,” Hawke says. “For now. 

“Hawke,” Fenris objects sharply.

“But,” Hawke cuts over his companion, “you’ll understand if we keep a closer eye on you than normal.”

“Nice pun,” Bull says. “And yeah, I get it. It’s the smart thing to do, no hard feelings. I understand my people make you uneasy.”

Just like Hawke understands that if Bull really wanted to get a message to his people, it wouldn’t matter if he was being watched. What surprises him is that Solas doesn’t try to argue the point.

He knows he should have learned not to take stupid chances on obvious risks by now. But all he hears when he thinks about changing is Bethany’s voice. “Give him a chance, brother. People will surprise you in the best ways.”

“Right,” Hawke says, leaning into the comfort of dire business. “There’s more to Ashkaari than they think. A lot more, I’m willing to bet.”

“Whatever gave you that idea,” Vivienne drolls.

“My note. Despite what she said, there is no world in which her people wouldn’t consider what she put in it worth knowing. She’s hiding things from them. I want to know why.”

Bull does not take this well.

“And you believe her?” Solas asks. There’s no mockery or derision in his voice, it’s an honest question.

“You’ve seen me pick out an impossible lie before, Solas.”

“She put information in mine that I have never spoken of to a soul,” Leliana says. “It was a thought I had long ago, plucked from my mind and put onto a sheet of paper.”

“I have spoken to no one of mine, either,” Cassandra complains. “I suppose if someone followed me every waking moment for months, they could discover it, but I don’t know why they would.”

“It’s the same with mine,” Cullen says. “A moment I had with a sibling when I was a boy. Unless he told someone, and I can’t see why he ever would, or why anyone would care to listen, there is no way she could have known.”

For a long time, no one says anything. Cullen starts pacing, and Varric takes to rubbing his temples with one hand. 

“Not to put too fine a point on it, my dears,” Vivienne finally says, “but I believe I shall take this as my moment to depart, and leave the discussion to our leadership. I recommend all of you do the same.” She manages to direct her “friendly” advice to a few specific people without even glancing at them. “I find I have matters to which I must attend.”

Everyone looks at her.

“The information is my note could have been discovered, but I do not believe for a moment the Qunari empire would take interest in what was mentioned. I believe every word she said, in fact, far fetched as it all is. She is an honest woman. Shrewd, but honest. One learns to pick such things out when one spends as much time in the Game as I have. 

“I intend to strike while the iron is hot.” She sashays toward the exit. “I shall be attending to correspondence, should you need me.”

The heavy fabric at the entrance flutters closed behind her.

“Well that isn’t concerning at _all,”_ Hawke deadpans to her back.

“You were the one who let her in,” Fenris rumbles.

“And you know exactly why I did.” Who better to navigate the sharks than the most deadly among them? Besides, if people like ‘Madame’ de Fer are here, it only helps him forestall an official title that much longer.

 

 

“Right,” he says abruptly, “I hate to say this, but if she’s lying, she’s the most impressive con-man I’ve ever met. And we all know that would be saying something. Give me someone with a disastrous, world-shattering secret any day, that’s really where I really like to drop the ball.” He doesn’t exactly put a lot of effort into burying the saturated bitterness under his bright tone. There are some things you just don’t forgive yourself for. Anders would have been one thing. He changed over the years, and Maker knows love makes blind fools of everyone. But Isabella is on the list of oversights he’ll never forgive himself for.

“So… in this other world... she came to _us,”_ Cassandra says.

“We believe her, then?” Josephine asks.

“Wait until you look into your note,” Leliana says darkly. “There is no chance she could have known what she put into mine, and half of it remains to be seen. She plucked a thought from my head that I have never shared with another soul and put it to paper.” She looks at Cassandra. “I saw your face when they spoke of the woman in the Rift. I know you think as I do.”

“Want to share with the class?” Hawke asks.

Cassandra ignores him and answers Leliana. “Isn’t it more likely that we are desperate to see what we wish? Why would such a thing be delivered to the _Qunari?”_

“English, please,” Hawke says with markedly less patience.

“The most obvious option was that she or the Qunari were responsible for the Breach. But Solas doesn’t believe that was the case, and we now know the Qunari believe the Fade to be a place of great evil. I cannot believe they would do anything to weaken it. So if they did not cause it, if….” She sighs. “I have spoken to no one of what she put into my note,” she says, grossly, dangerously unamused. “We all saw one another’s faces as she handed them out. She knows things she cannot. If they are telling the truth….

“She bears the instrument of our salvation, and the glowing figure of a woman was seen standing watch over her until she was found. They say she appeared on the same day at the same time as the Breach, or within moments. This cannot all be coincidence.”

“What if it was Andraste watching over her?” Leliana asks, as if finishing Cassandra’s thought. “It is far-fetched, yes, but how much moreso than the reality in which we find ourselves? The very world has broken open. If ever there was a time for the Maker to intervene, for Andraste to take pity and send help to us--”

“But why would it be through the Qunari?” Cassandra asks.

“Perhaps the same reason He would allow Most Holy to be killed and a hole torn in our reality. Or the Conclave to fail so spectacularly, shattering what paltry excuse for a parley we were managing. Perhaps He wishes to bring their people into the fold. Perhaps it is some new test,” she scathes the word. “The best we can hope for is some sense to come from any of this. If what happened to the Temple of Sacred Ashes, to the people there, to the Divine, if it might end up having some meaning--”

“Bull,” Hawke interrupts. “Nothing to add?”

“Honestly? Cassandra’s got it on the nose. The Qunari wouldn’t touch the veil. And if they were going to hit the South, it wouldn’t be like this. Too messy, too much collateral damage. It isn’t how the antaam operates. But I’m one of them. Didn’t really think agreeing would do the theory any favors.”

Hawke shrugs. “It’s a thin line, but don’t give us a reason to stop trusting you, and we won’t.”

Varric and Fenris exchange a quiet look.

“Listen,” the dwarf says, “As fun as this is, I’m going to follow the ice queen’s lead. Apparently I have some murders to prevent back in Kirkwall.”

Hawke raises his brows, but Varric waves him off. “I’ll fill you in later. Focus on saving the world. Again,” he adds, openly unamused. 

“You’d leave me here alone with these savages?” He asks as Varric walks by. “Offense intended,” he says to the group at large. “I thought you cared.”

Varric chuckles darkly. “Hawke, there’s going to be a mountain of fresh bronto dung for you to pull me into as soon as I turn around. I can already smell it, Maker help me. I’m going to tend to business while I still can. And then get really, really drunk. Join me later, I’ll fill you in.”

“Yeaaaahhh I’m with him,” Sera says. “All this big-stuff talk, too big stuff, massive….” She shakes her head, then shakes it again like she’s got a shiver or something stuck in her ear. “No. Just tell me when you figure it out, Birdie, I’ll stab the right people in the face.” A grin spreads over her lips. “I’m going to see if I can go with Ash. I can watch them for _you,_ and I can watch _her_ for _me._ Get it? Because watching, and she’s… yummy,” she finishes with a little scrunch of her nose.

Blackwall excuses himself next, and no one notices Cole leave so much as they realize he’s just not there any longer.

“Right,” Bull rumbles, “so all this theology is fun and whatever, but is this really what we want to focus on right now? I get the question is important, sure, but let’s look at the facts.” He ticks off on his thick fingers as he goes. “Breach tearing a hole in the sky. Rifts crapping out demons left and right. Solution to both problems dropped in our lap. Maybe the theology can take a back seat while we stop the world from ending.”

“It will matter what we tell the world of this,” Josephine says, “particularly if we hope for even the least cooperation. We have been fortunate to avoid the Chantry’s official censure, but if we present Qunari as our official solution….” She looks at Bull. “What are the chances they would allow her to accompany us unsupervised? I can present a lone Qunari to the world if we work carefully, but” she glances at Hawke, “that _would_ be considerably easier with an official figurehead to detract from her presence.”

 _”No,_ Josephine. It doesn’t matter how many times you pull that adorable little frown, my answer isn’t going to change. I’ll help. You can use my name if you ever find a solution you can’t wiggle your way out of any other way. But _quietly._ That condition isn’t going to change.”

“Yeah, not really an issue anyway,” Bull says bluntly. “With what Rasaan told us, they aren’t going to let her out of their sight. Maybe literally.”

“But they have no women with them,” Josephine protests.

“So? It wouldn’t matter, anyway, she’s… fuck, I don’t know. She isn’t a priest, she isn’t a soldier. She’s something between. But they do have women with them. A full complement of Tamassrans, and five of them are women. That’s un-fucking-heard of. I’d say there’s no way they’ll be going on the road, but A, they’re here at all, and B, I can’t see why else they would have come.”

“But Rasaan is here,” Cullen says. “You said only the military leave Qunari lands, and he isn’t military.”

“No, but he’s the one exception. The Beresaad handle pretty much everything outside Qunari lands, but he’s basically the big guns when it comes to negotiation or trade. He’s trained for it, it’s just not the biggest part of what he does.”

“An exception,” Cullen deadpans. “An exception, as in their first Prophet since Koslun?”

Bull grunts, ceding the point.

“Tamassrans, you said they’re your teachers and healers? Won’t they go back to the ship now that she’s recovered?”

“Uh….”

“They can’t all be here to teach her.”

“No,” Bull hedges, his tone reserved, but loaded, “they’re definitely not teachers.”

“Then what are they, _precisely?”_ Solas asks.

“...I’m not sure that’s for me to say.”

“Ah, yes. You must of course check with your masters.”

Bull growls. “Listen, I do a pretty good job of putting up with all your ignorant, judgmental crap about the Qun. I really do. Hell, I’m used to it, living down here. But discretion is hardly a concept we invented, _especially_ when it comes to military and diplomatic operations. Even if none of that were true, this isn’t like that. It’s personal. The kind of personal you don’t just go spouting off about to anyone who asks. It isn’t the Arishok I have to talk to, Solas, it’s _her.”_

The other man scrutinizes Bull, but eventually gives a begrudging, “You have my apology. I heard what I wished. But can you truly, honestly tell us that the matter is not relevant?”

“Yes,” he says, tight, but certain..

The two stare one another down.

“....Right, so this hatemance thing you two have going on is _super_ fun,” Hawke says, “but how about we get back to the world ending and or world-conquering.”

Solas sighs like he’s dealing with a five year-old and ready for someone else to take over. “Regardless of her _true_ origin, it is as she herself said: miracles and reason are not mutually exclusive. And is Iron Bull pointed out, the problem at hand remains regardless of what tale we spin for the rest of the world, which may exist removed from the truth regardless. Therefore I suggest we table it in favor of much more dire questions.”

 

 

“I recognized the voice in the Temple of Sacred Ashes from the distorted image,” Hawke admits. “It’s distinctive. But I didn’t want to say anything. That insane Magister cost my family everything, and I saw him dead with my own hands. I didn’t want to believe it. I convinced myself I had to be wrong.”

Fenris studies Hawke’s face.

 

 

Grimly, Cassandra says, “...Very well. If we are all more or less on the same page, all that remains is to decide what to deal with first.”

Hawke sniffs and straightens, seeming to shake himself out of a reverie. “You’ll take a group and go after the Seekers. Cullen, arrange a simultaneous strike against the mines in Emprise du Lion and the Envy demon - Bull, you and the Chargers will head that up, but _be careful._ Leliana, put everything you have into finding Alexius. Josephine, pull in every favor to get us soldiers. Make them up if you have to. And get a lead on whatever we’d need to make Skyhold livable in case all of this goes horribly wrong. Fenris and I will leave tonight with Blackwall to find my contact in the Wardens and see if there’s any hope left for them. 

“We’re going to knock Corypheus tits over ass, close the Breach before he can remember up from down, and when he marches on us… we’ll be ready for the fucker. After that we can start on damage control.

“Leliana, do you have anyone good enough to watch the Arishok’s band without being noticed by them?”

“No,” Bull answers for her. When she looks at him he just shrugs. “Sorry, but they brought Ben Hassrath. No one’s that good. If you’re going to risk it - which I wouldn’t recommend, by the way - I’d say that new guy, don’t know his name. Brown-haired elf, little squirrely. He’s rough in places, but pretty good at keeping out of sight. Quiet, too.”

“Hawke?” the Spymaster prompts.

“Are we really talking about spying on the Qunari with one of them standing right here?” Fenris demands, droll.

“Aw, Fenris,” Hawke mock scolds, leveling Bull with a look, “Bull’s practically family.” And not stupid enough to think they’d actually air their plans in front of him like this. There’s also the fact that if the Qunari don’t _assume_ they’re being spied on at all times, they’re idiots. And the Qunari aren’t idiots. “Solas,” he says, though it’s a moment before his eyes leave the mercenary. “You’re suspiciously quiet.”

“I am afraid I must agree with Fenris regarding Iron Bull’s presence.”

Hawke opens his mouth, but Bull just laughs and walks by, clapping a hand on the other man’s shoulder. “Nah, he’s right,” he says. “I’ll be around when you need me.”

Solas waits a long moment, then replies to Hawke. “I have voiced my opinion. I believe their intent to be genuine, I believe cooperation to be our only real option at this point - at least if our goal is still stopping the end of the world. You are aware they will not leave it at this once all is said and done… and I believe there is much more to their ‘Prophet’ than meets the eye.”

“You don’t say,” Hawke deadpans. 

“What are the odds that they’re behind all of this?” Cullen asks.

“Slim.”

“...Do you want to elaborate on that?” Hawke prods.

“The Qunari are skilled in the art of warfare, but every military operates with a certain degree of predictability. It has been this way with every great military force through history. Even those which utilize unpredictability do so with a pattern. 

“Simply put, the Qunari would not strike by tearing down the veil. Their hatred of mistrust of the Fade makes the Chantry’s own policies look positively open-minded and inclusive.

 

 

“Whatever she wrote in her notes has left all of you more unsettled than a world of Rifts and demons.

 

 

“We cannot allow such thoughts to cloud our judgement,” Solas says. His tone is nearly gentle. “It is as Ashkaari says of her own origins: miracles and reason are not mutually exclusive.”

 

“Her origins matter. There is no other way for it to be. What we tell the world will _not_ matter, however, if there is no one left to tell. Dozens of Rifts need closing, and those are only the ones we know of. That will require time, travel, and likely the sort of dire circumstances which forge the bonds unique to comrades in arms. Trust forms when danger is shared. Opportunities will present themselves, must present themselves, to become closer to her, and to pose our questions. Given the insistence of the Qunari delegation thus far that they are here to provide aid and not simply take over the business of addressing the Breach, it is safe to assume our forces will be expected to accompany her. It is inevitable that opportunities to speak to her privately will arise, if nothing else.”

 

 

“To return to the matter at hand,” Josephine says pointedly, “that is the Rifts addressed for now. Our next priority, then, must be to secure the aid of the mages or the Templars. The rest....”

“They did not have to tell us any of it,” Leliana says, and it’s obvious from her tone that she’s having trouble figuring something out. “It would do nothing but benefit the Qunari to see the Rifts closed while the rest of Thedas fell into chaos. They obviously have a plan to defeat Sethius, so why would they not simply allow him to destabilize the other nations before sweeping in to defeat him and then laying claim to what was left? Our armies would be weakened, if not decimated, and people would be desperate for any offer of certainty. That is something the Qun specializes in.”

“It would be a massive loss of potential followers,” Josephine suggests.

“They wouldn’t care about that,” Bull says. “It isn’t a numbers game. The Qun is order, and any land that lives outside of it is chaos. They don’t conquer to gain followers, they do it to right things to their natural state. If anything, less people would make their job easier, at least to a point.”

“Then why would they not simply sit back and wait?” Leliana asks.

“You got me. The Arishok is the one in charge of spreading the Qun to hostile populations. You’d have to ask him.”

“...Ashkaari,” Leliana says as if to herself. Then at a normal volume, “The way they look at her. Rasaan said it himself. She speaks for the Qun, and she told them they must come and offer aid.”

“So if we wish an answer to the question, it is to her we should speak,” Cassandra concludes.

“Precisely.”

“It’s a moot point right now,” Cullen says. “We don’t have a fraction of the manpower we would need to address a fraction of the catastrophes she laid out. I doubt we even have the numbers, never mind the resources, to stop the lyrium operation in Emprise du Lion. Even if we did, Sethius,” his tone is scathing when he says the name, “would only move it elsewhere, leaving us to chase him. I don’t know how many men the Qunari brought, but even if it was enough, I can’t imagine we would be doing ourselves any favors sending them out. Maker, can you imagine trying to talk half the Lords in Ferelden, nevermind Orlais, into letting a Qunari vanguard cross their lands and enter their holdings?”

“We may not have a choice,” Cassandra says. “And neither will they. Even the most stubborn among them will see that soon. Hopefully before it is too late.”

“We should consider the possibility that it is in our best interest to interfere as little as possible,” Solas suggests, his tone musing. “Stop events before they occur, certainly, and do so with the advantage of knowing when and where to strike. If we seek to prevent everything she spoke of, we lose the considerable advantage of our opponent’s predictability. Would it not be advisable to maintain the appearance of ignorance, of acting based solely upon current intelligence?

“If she does indeed have knowledge of the future, how far does that reach? With how much accuracy can she predict the consequences which will arise simply from being who she is, coming to us and sharing what she has, never mind how events will deviate based upon every action we take from here? Time is a delicate thing, its currents and eddies unpredictable.”

“Are we to rebuild Haven only to then let it be destroyed?” Cullen asks, ire in his face and voice. “According to Ashkaari, the lives lost in that assault are what finally gains us the traction and support we so badly need.”

“Much is already changed from what she has said. In the world she spoke of, Haven was not rendered uninhabitable by the Breach, which was stabilized before growing so large, and the Inquisition functioned without any word from the Qunari for nearly a year.

“We have a singular advantage, should her information prove correct. But whether or not it is, sacrifices cannot be avoided, not now, not in the world in which we find ourselves. Obviously we should not throw away innocent lives; I suggest we use what advantage we may be given, but that we do not follow blindly.

“As for the truth.... May I speak with you privately?” He asks the Seeker and the Advisers. They exchange looks and Cassandra nods to Bull, who grunts and leaves. Solas waits a long minute, then tells them in a low voice, “I suspect you will not care for the idea, but it is possible to find out if she is telling the truth.”

“How?” Cassandra asks.

“I am a Dreamer. A Somniari. I can shape the Fade while she sleeps in such a way that she will speak freely.”

Cullen’s face darkens. Cassandra looks troubled, Josephine uncertain.

“Do it,” Leliana says.

“Leliana--” Cassandra protests, but the other woman cuts her off.

“Will it cause her harm?” She asks as if impatient.

“None,” Solas answers.

“Will she know what has happened when she wakes?”

“She will likely have no memory of it. If she does, it will be as garbled and difficult to hold onto as any other dream. Particularly so in her case, I suspect, as the Qunari loathe all things relating to the Fade. They would hardly encourage any exercises which might help a person hold onto dreams.”

Cassandra exchanges a long look with Cullen. She asks Solas, “You are certain this would not harm her? In any way?”

“It will be no more or less than any other pleasant dream.”

When the others are obviously giving this serious consideration, Cullen asks quietly, “Have we truly come to this?”

“Do we truly have a choice?” Leliana counters.

“Always,” he says, his voice hard.

“I have been what I am for many years,” Solas says. “I have walked this world and the Fade and seen many things, lived many lifetimes in my way. Contrary to your Chantry’s teachings, not all magic is to be inherently feared; it is no more or less than a tool. Place it into the hands of a child or a villain, and it will cause harm. But in the hands of someone capable, who is experienced and strong of will, it is only that.

“I would not suggest this if there were any risk of harm. Ashkaari is the first true hope we have had in this bleak time, and I have no wish to endanger that. But until we know for certain if she is what she claims, we have only so much latitude going forward, and our risk is exponentially more large. I would go to her in the Fade, and we would have a pleasant conversation. It would be no more or less than that.”

“It would be a lie,” Cullen says.

“And far less than any interrogation, with more reliable results. It will be duplicitous for my part, yes, but that will by far be the worst of it.

“The decision need not be made now, in any case, and regardless, it is as our Ambassador says: we have a solution to the problem of the Rifts and the Breach. It is much more than we had even an hour ago. And as you pointed out, Commander, the Qunari can seem mercurial. It would be wise to make use of this advantage while it is freely offered.”

Cullen sighs heavily. “I can’t argue with that part. Regarding the rest, I would like time to think. We’ll need at least another day to prepare if you’re all going to head out on a tour of Rifts, and if nothing else, we have to figure out what to tell the world when they see her.” He finishes in a mutter, “She’s not exactly easy to miss.”

The others agree in their own ways, at their own paces, and the meeting breaks apart.


End file.
